


Our Communion

by egelska



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, During Canon, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, frottage but with swords?, its porn but you cry! bonus!!!, porn with extra fluff at the end, you fuck your self care demon, your self care demon tells you you are loved and good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egelska/pseuds/egelska
Summary: A compromise is struck between Fray and the Warrior of Light, but a bond of battle isn't enough in the face of a war that Fray cannot help her win. In a quiet Ala Mhigan inn after a hard day's work, the overwhelmed Warrior of Light finds unexpected solace and satisfaction in her constant confidant.
Relationships: Fray Myste/Original Character(s), Fray Myste/Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 68





	Our Communion

**Author's Note:**

> ✦✦ Contains explicit spoilers for DRK 50 and 70 job quests. ✦✦
> 
> A quick porn-with-feelings fic for the fraywol gremlins on Twitter, a group that has accepted me as a card-carrying member. If DRK quests taught me anything it's to merge selflessness with selfishness, and that's this fic, really.
> 
> Let me know what you think on here or over on @Sohm_al! Thanks for reading.

The city of Ala Mhigo was hot and dry during the day, but after sunset, the temperature plummeted. A room at a quiet inn offered a welcoming sense of normalcy to the wayward, bedraggled Warrior of Light as she stepped over the threshold. She trudged up the stairs to her rented room, shoulders bent forward by an overwhelming weight that was not at all caused by her platemail. She closed the door behind her and heaved a low sigh, then looked up to the lantern flickering gold in the low light.

All inns were the same, to an extent. She’d been in enough of them to know. This one reminded her of a ramshackle building where Foundation meets the Brume, and a warmth flooded her stomach at the thought. There was no time to consider that emotion, for she had to strip this armor down and shine it, piece by piece. At least it was built to require only one set of hands— there were too many knights and paladins who might require a hired helper, but not her. She would be just fine going without. She had for a while now, and it had been just fine.

The constant motion of her fingers on buckles and then her shining cloth on the armor was mindless, allowing for a great deal of distraction. She sighed, and then she allowed her thoughts to drift from the growing conflict and the soon-to-come siege towards more mortal matters. If this were the Forgotten Knight, she might yet be accompanied by friends, or perhaps she could greet Fray only yalms away on those cold, open stairs.

Once again, she found herself sitting alone with the memory of Fray. This conjury was an unintentional thing, but it was nothing less than constant. What might Fray think, at this moment? What would she say? Once that bottle was opened, there was no recourse but to ride out the train of thought. The warmth in her gut was already growing thanks to her boredom and stress, and as ever, the thought of Fray lit it like a match tossed into oil. She hummed low, determined to at least finish her work before allowing herself this sort of dalliance.

The armor shone as bright as the Warrior’s red cheeks only a few ticks of work later. She exhaled a breath of exhaustion and pleasure at a job well done, then finally gave in to the hunger roaring at the back of her mind. Her sword in its sheath took the left side of the bed, her armor the hangers to her left, and she the free space between.

She flopped backwards against the pillows, halfway to sitting up, and slipped a hand low between her thighs, still atop her leggings. What might Fray think, in this moment? What might she say? She groaned at the thought, a low, needy sound that can’t be held back without concerted effort. Fray would be shameless, she concluded. Her fingers pressed gentle circles against her sex, one for each thought. Fray would know exactly what she wanted, as she ever had. Her hand drifted up to her clit, although true sensation was yet hidden behind layers of fabric. Fray would take her in communion once again, and she would—

Her thoughts were stopped in their tracks by a twitch of her own fingers, uncontrolled. Then another motion, a shift of each knuckle as if to test the capacity of the appendage. She attempted to clench her first, but found resistance as strong as if she were grasping the hand of another. Before panic could set in, a low voice echoed, speaking from someplace within her skull. “You think me shameless,” it murmurs, low and pleased. “And yet you perform this for me— how many times has it been, now? You leave me to sit and watch you yearn.”

Her hand absently ranged down her thigh, then back up to caress near the buttons of her leggings with one light finger. “Oh,” came a tentative reply, eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Oh, Gods.”

The flame in her gut raged like a bonfire, with a desperation that could not be overstated even if speech were required. That familiar voice speaks again, reassuring this time. “You don’t have to talk,” she tells her, both kind and a touch condescending. “I know what you feel. What you want. If you dislike something, if you adore it, if you need me to stop… And I know that as we are now, you don’t need me to stop. You’re begging me to start.”

Her head nodded, and this response was entirely made by the Warrior. A soft chuckle was audible just after, as close as if it were whispered in her ear. “What did you say I would be, if I were with you? Relentless? Shameless?”

With that, her two hands reached to the right to collect something-- anything-- to offer satisfaction. “You kept my sword,” she hums, delight and anticipation obvious in her tone. “Such a devoted little thing. I saw it, when we fought together… I could not forget.”

That simple sword was tossed aside in moments, left unsheathed against the very farthest edge of the bed. Instead, the scabbard came with them, hefted in both of Fray’s hands and brought close to their shared form. It was a great work of leather and metal, and now it rested against the bed, both hands gripping to press it down. “Up,” came the order, and she obeyed it without a thought, settling herself down against the leather with one leg on each side. Her voice was audible in contrast to Fray’s, offering out a whispered “Please!”

“Shh. Grind,” came the next instruction. As ever, the Warrior was an obedient student, and her hips curved in a slow arc. Just as Fray intended, this motion pressed the upturned scabbard against her clit through too-thin fabric leggings and smallclothes. “Show me just how much you wanted this.”

Shaky breaths turned to a loud whimper as Fray’s hands shifted the scabbard beneath her, creating a soft back-and-forth of hips and hands. Her lips moved, despite the utter redundancy of using words to communicate. Fray knew all of her already, and she knew all of Fray. Their breath heaved as one, stroke by stroke.

But it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. All too soon, Fray’s hands retreated to their thighs and the scabbard went flat against the bed. The Warrior cried out in dismay at the lack of building heat, tossing her head back with the effort of restraining the sound. A low, familiar chuckle echoed through her mind. “Were you thinking you’d cum like that? Are you disappointed? Savor that feeling, now, just as you always have.”

“Please,” she whispered, a prayer to the empty room. Each sentence could be barely a word, interrupted by heaving breaths and the sharp sting of sudden tears at the corners of her eyes. Emotion could be overwhelming at her best, and this was not her best of days. “Please. Fray -- Esteem? Don’t say that here.”

One last addition came, a second later and a touch softer than the rest. “I don’t want you to go.”

The voice against her ear grew soft again, with not a hint of the condescension she had used just moments earlier, nor the ferocity both of them knew was lurking. “Breathe,” she instructed. “Listen to my voice. Do you remember what I said, the last time we spoke like this? What comes after?”

A soft reply came instantly, with words she hadn’t realized she had memorized. “Listen to our heartbeat.”

“Do you hear it racing? Can you feel that it races for me?” Fray continued only once she felt their head nod in agreement. “You begged for me to take the reins, as it were. I would not leave you before we are well and finished. No tears, now. I have you. Savor the hunger, and the joy.”

The Warrior inhaled, shaky for more reasons than one. With that, Fray’s hands began to roam once again, albeit slower now in order to recover the heat that loneliness stole away. She worked at the buttons of her lover’s leggings, tugging them open enough to slip a hand down her belly and into her smallclothes. She shuddered at the touch, arching her hips up in hopes of specific attention to her neglected clit.

As ever, Fray knew what was left unsaid. Her fingers parted her lover’s labia to stroke slow circles at her entrance, but she paused for a moment to appreciate the clear arousal. “You’re soaking,” she murmured, the words echoing inside the Warrior’s overstimulated mind. “You’ve wanted this for a long time. How long? Say it nicely, now.”

“Since you asked me to run away with you,” came her instant reply. No thought was needed for this answer: both of them knew it well already. Despite that shared knowledge, she’d been asked to say it aloud, and any request of Fray’s was a request that would be granted. “I wanted a-- mentor, and a friend, and a… Gods. Fuck, I wanted a lover. I wanted a lover! I wanted you to claim me, to stay here, to--”

Her words were cut off by the unceremonious closing of their lips, and then the simple sensation of fingertips pressed against her entrance, testing. Fray had never been an example of patience, and now was no different. She slipped a finger into her lover, as far as their angle would allow it. “You wanted me to fuck you,” Fray finished the thought, smug and just as heated as her companion.

Her voice was newly breathless, clearly just as affected by the heat occupying their shared form. But breathlessness wouldn’t stop Fray now, not when they were so close to a communion they had never yet shared. She thrusted for a few moments, offering a slow and steady build before pulling free against her lover’s smallclothes in order to slip two digits inside. Surprised and elated by the actions of her own hands, the Warrior cried out an appeal once again, “Please!”

As ever, Fray was happy to provide. One hand began a sharp rhythm, fingertips gliding against her most sensitive point with each push deeper and pull out. The other slipped close, wrists touching in order to clumsily provide some attention to her clit. “You’ve been so patient,” Fray murmured, so close to physically present that the Warrior swore she could feel breath against her ear. “I want to see you fulfilled.”

With trembling thighs and curled toes, the Warrior rode out the attention, eyes shut tight so as not to overwhelm herself. Like this, one could almost imagine the feeling of weight atop her body, of Fray’s fingertips pausing to tug her leggings down to her knees.

She opened her eyes, for the pleasure of those thrusts was well and truly gone. Her hands lay still against the cold Ala Mhigan air, exposed to the inn room and to the sight that greeted her. Her lover knelt against the bed, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail to keep it from her bright, gleaming eyes. Armor was a second thought, piled beside the Warrior’s own. Instead, Fray wore a simple blouse, leggings, and boots-- just as practical as her counterpart, beneath all that platemail. Before either of them could speak, Fray pounced low, pressing her lover into the sheets and pillows with weight that was all too real the first time.

Their lips caught like a sword on a whetstone, in sharp, quick passes with teeth snagging lips and tongues uncertain of where to stay. Fray broke it for just a moment to whisper, breath heated, “I’m here. I feel as you do. Let me.”

No response could be given, for Fray caught her lips once again with an open-mouthed, desperate kiss. Her hand ranged low, shoving the Warrior’s away from her goal in order to slick her own fingers in her arousal and push inside. This time, Fray gave her three, banking on a melding of slight discomfort and desperation to please. She cried into her lover’s mouth, a garbled message of gratitude that only a mental connection could translate. This pushed Fray further, from offering a moment to acclimate into thrusting rough and quick against her lover’s g-spot. Neither knew how long they might have, and Fray intended to make the best of it.

It didn’t take long for the Warrior’s thighs to clench in anticipation, nor for her hands to drag red circles against Fray’s exposed skin in a desperate attempt to communicate. Fray’s voice echoed in their mind, for there’s no way anyone could get the two of them to part their lips now. “Be a good girl, now,” she requests, overwhelming in her certainty that her words will be obeyed. “Cum for me.”

The Warrior paused for only a moment in the face of this onslaught before giving in. There was no contest, and no uncertainty. There couldn’t be, not between them. She sobbed into Fray’s mouth, hips bucking up to try to force her lover’s digits further, and then she dropped from the cliff. Her pussy throbbed against Fray’s fingers, and the breaking of her breath quickly gave way to genuine, overstimulated tears thanks to her constant rhythm. Just before the Warrior would beg her to stop, Fray slowed and slipped her fingers free. Their lips parted too, and the Warrior interrupted with a quick, tearful, “Thank you.”

“You’re not finished yet. Get these off,” came a smug reply, albeit one heavily affected by their orgasm. Fray too was heaving for breath, with cheeks flushed a dark red from exertion. She grunts, grabbing for the leggings to pull them off altogether. “I’m done waiting.”

It doesn’t take more than a few moments for the leggings to be tossed onto the floor, and then for Fray to slip away from their kiss to settle between her lover’s thighs. “Oh, gods,” murmured the girl against the pillows. “I’m still too-- fuck!”

Fray had never waited for instruction well. But true to their bond, her lips were gentle against her lover as she pressed a kiss to her red, swollen clit. Her breath was heated as ever, but in the near wake of an orgasm, even the warmth was pleasurable. “You’re going to cum for me again,” she whispered. “You wanted me to claim you, to take you, to fuck you. And I know that I want to do just that.”

With that, she enveloped her clit in her mouth and pressed two slick fingers to her entrance. In the wake of an orgasm, Fray was gentler, using her fingers almost entirely as a cure for the emptiness she knew plagued her companion. Any motion was minimal, except for slow laps against her clit, both gentle and relentless. Each one brought another spasm of need from the woman, and after half a tick of that constant attention, the Warrior’s legs were crossed against Fray’s back to lock her in place.

Her fingers clutched the bedsheets, leaving a stain of arousal against the white linen. Fray’s fingers were hard at work creating more mess. Instead of rough, shallow thrusts, these were deep and slow, claiming the entirety of her lover in every forward motion. At a low gasp, Fray adjusts ever so slightly, leaving her fingers plunged to the hilt and curling them gently instead. This did just what it should: the Warrior cried out, suddenly stricken with a need that couldn’t be denied.

“Fray-- Fray--?”

“I know,” came a silent reply. “Don’t ask me for permission. Cum.”

Fray’s tongue shuddered against her lover, and her fingers stutter with the force of their second orgasm. With a physical form to show for her work, Fray shook with the force of it, kept in place only by the Warrior’s clenched legs. “Fuck,” she whispered, tears drooling down both cheeks with the sensation of two orgasms entwined in their new understanding of communion. At this point, all that could be offered in response was to repeat a name, and so she did, voice high and cracking with pressure. “Fuck, Fray. Fray!”

Fray stayed just where she was, tongue lapping slow circles against her lover’s shaking sex, until just before the Warrior would have begged for mercy. She lifted her head, lips and chin smeared in arousal, and shot her lover a wide, bright smile.

The Warrior’s eyes had already drifted closed, but her breaths gave away the fact that she was very much awake. Fray let a low chuckle escape her chest. “You heard me, the last time we met,” she murmured, lifting herself up on one elbow to flop against her lover in the pillows. “Do you remember what I last said to you?”

The Warrior turned her head and shifted to press her back against Fray’s chest. “I am still a good person,” she murmured, bleary and sweet in the afterglow of a satisfying bell.

“You are,” Fray agreed, one finger absently twirling a curl of hair as though truly seeing it for the first time. “Before that. What might I say to you here and now?”

She sighed, dragging the blanket up over them with no intention of cleaning up the mess left behind. Fray’s sword would stay where it was, as would her scabbard, if the Warrior had anything to say about it. “I remember, I just can’t…” She trailed off into a low sigh, frustration written all over her tired, glowing face.

Fray leaned close, then wrapped the arm that had tangled in her hair around her chest to pull her tight as they could be. Such closeness was far more important than admiring her features-- that could wait. “You didn’t hear the weight of it,” she murmured, breath still shaky. “‘I love her. I forgive her. And you…’”

She inhaled a breath, then sighed it against her companion’s skin. “You. It is always you. I know you heard me offer forgiveness to Myste, as you would want me to-- but did you understand that I forgive him because I love you?”

Fray’s voice didn’t shake, not even now. It was cool and calm, a confession delivered as easily as the weather. In sharp contrast, the Warrior of Light flipped over in her arms, eyes sparkling with unshed tears all over again. “I didn’t,” she answered, barely more than a breath. “I didn’t.”

With their faces so close together, it was barely a nudge for Fray to lean closer, pressing forehead to forehead. Blue aether had begun to fleck off of her form, leaving her half present in the current moment. “Then let me repeat myself,” she began, arms wrapped tight as they can be around the woman. “Listen to my voice.”

The Warrior of Light spoke up, understanding the prompt that was given. “Listen to my heartbeat,” she offered, and was spurred forward by the tired smile fixed on her companion’s face.

“I love you,” Fray told her, as confident as anything she had said before. There was not a fleck of doubt left to be had.

The words were repeated, and the Warrior’s arms lift to cling to her lover’s shoulders, already halfway to that deep shade of fading blue. “I love you.”

Fray repeated herself once again, fulfilling the pattern they both now know by heart. “I love you.”

Just as it had so recently before, Fray’s aether flickered and spat in silence, clinging to a corporeal form for as long as it was possible to do. In the wake of their shared eucharist and then their confession, it took less time for the Warrior of Light to fall asleep against her lover’s chest than it did for Fray to fade into the black once again.

When she awoke the next morning, she found Fray’s sword set to the side of the bed, sheathed and cleaned. As the sun rose upon Ala Mhigo, the Warrior of Light rose with it, a rekindled flame to light the abyss.


End file.
